( He can imagine it. Spending years alone, wanting nobody. He's tried to walk that path, tried pushing people away. Gone through stints where he told himself he didn't need anybody, he didn't even need Sam, he was fine. Except fine meant denial, and spiraling mental health, and depression, never managing it for more than a couple months or years at a time, because unlike Geralt, there is a need inside of Dean.

There's a massive, consuming void, a black hole pulling in all light and matter in a desperate search for something to fill it. A void probably meant for an archangel, but that Dean has instead redirected to be a longing for family. However it's labelled, whatever the source, he has always had a soul-deep longing for someone to fill the cavity in his chest with.

Then people came along...

Dean offers him a wry, knowing smile. Raises the jar of moonshine in a soft cheers. )

Welcome to family, where everything's screwed up, and the points don't matter. You're gonna spend the rest of your life trying not to lose them, then break your own heart watching 'em die anyway. The only consolation you get? Is whether or not you can honestly tell yourself you did everything you could.

( But that... that's where it gets dangerous. What they're capable of compared to the average Joe gives everything he could a completely different context.

But things are different for Dean than they are for Geralt, probably. Presumably, Geralt has the ability to let go. Dean does not. )